Ty Segall

Channeling his inner Glynn Johns behind the boards, and soaking in the diamonds and dirt of American lore, Ty Segall points his compass back towards bigger sounds on Possession. The past few albums found Ty winding through the woods, tackling acoustic itches, prog-sweats, and synth-fueled ire. With Possession, Ty swings back to the grandeur of the Freedom’s Goblin-era; conjuring up a towering sound that welds a classic chassis to his deep well of studio embellishments. The latter finds him bringing back the strings, sax, and brass with help from his regular foil Mikal Cronin. The glint of glam returns as well, putting the crunch into the guitars and swinging pop around from the hips. Segall records always reverberate when they have a little bit of vamp, a wry smilie on their lips, and a few hooks that can leech the paint off of the parlor.

The record’s an American quilt of storyteller songs, fleshed out with lyrical help from filmmaker Matt Yoka, who helps turn Ty’s pop turbulence into tapestries that feed on the theme of possession, whether it be the grip of mania or the cauldron of Capitalism. The record ropes in Witch Trials and wonders, myths and the mundane, large vistas and small dreams then sifts them through the shiny pop sieves of The Kinks, Love, Billy Nicholls, and Brian Wilson. Over the past few years, Segall has shown that there’s no end to his chameleonic abilities. But, just like the cinematic approach that inspired moments on Posession, sometimes it’s best to just lean into the spectacle. The new record offers up a larger than life vision of rock that keeps the listener in thrall, splashed across the speakers in hi-definition hues.

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